


Set Me Free Beneath the Night Sky

by ThreeKnivesInAWineGlass



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Slavery, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 12:49:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20082490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeKnivesInAWineGlass/pseuds/ThreeKnivesInAWineGlass
Summary: If he dares, maybe Junhui will steal a glance at the king’s face, and if he’s lucky, maybe he will get to see fear dull those terrible eyes.





	Set Me Free Beneath the Night Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters I write about are inferred from public personas but should not be taken as accurate portrayals of their real world counterparts. Some fans have a hard time separating fantasy and reality, so before you read my story, I implore you to recognize these as characters, not celebrities. Please don’t project what you read in stories onto real people. Please respect real people.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy my fic.

The banquet hall is elaborate in a way Junhui has practically never seen before. Small trees have been lugged indoors so that, as the sunlight from the tall windows passes through their leaves, the room may be cast in diluted color and simultaneously lay an incomprehensible pattern over the table. The gentle, intermingling curves of the pale and heavy shadows created by the layers of leaves are equal parts beautiful and menacing - some lines are soft, another facet of the rooms splendor, while others are hard, fractures between worlds of light and dark.

It is odd, how subtle the threat of division, borders, and sides is. He wouldn’t dream of speaking against the king aloud, but in his mind, Junhui honestly didn’t think him capable of subtlety. Perhaps he is only so brazen in his harshness, his cruelty, with those suitably beneath him though. Perhaps it is Junhui’s unfortunate lot that he is suitably beneath most people, especially the king, unlike the ambassador for Lidreth.

The ambassador for Lidreth is decidedly not beneath the king. In fact, if the king does not play his cards right, he may very well find himself to be the one buried or held underfoot. Lidreth is large, grand, and powerful as only a kingdom with control of the West Marsh and Icemoors could be. The king fears Lidreth, their might and their wrath; he fears them the way that he never feared Vahnith.

Since the ambassador arrived, Junhui has been confined more rigidly than usual, so he’s had scarce opportunity to see the being that embodies the king’s fear. He’s curious, of course, how could he not be. He wonders if they have scars to intimidate or if they’re unscathed, a general or a diplomat. He didn’t receive much of his political schooling before Vahnith’s fall, but Junhui knows the meanings that go with who the crown has do its bidding, knows which stations herald peace and which ones act as a prelude to war.

Anticipation is a rarity for Junhui, as so many things are unpleasant, but he finds that he’s restless as he eases himself to his knees beside the king’s seat. If he dares, maybe Junhui will steal a glance at the king’s face, and if he’s lucky, maybe he will get to see fear dull those terrible eyes.

Maybe.

After a moment of waiting, Junhui hears the doors open, and he keeps both his head and gaze cast down as numerous voices fill the room. The chair beside him pulls back, and when it enters the periphery of his vision again, the rich purple of the king’s cloak dominates Junhui’s sight as if it were thrown over him, as if it were all he is capable of seeing.

The hall falls silent quickly, and then the king’s voice rings out, the walls around them deflecting his words back so they may be heard louder as he says, “Dear friends, on this glorious day, we welcome Hong Jisoo from Lidreth and invite him to the heart of our land so that we may speak and bring prosperity to both.”

Applause roars, almost louder than the king’s voice, and Junhui risks a glance up, searching for this Hong Jisoo. Quickly his eyes find their target, seated prominently at the opposite end of the table, and Junhui concludes he is a diplomat. He bears no medals, no armor, and he appears void of blemishes. Pity, Junhui was almost hopeful that this encounter would go poorly.

Jisoo speaks next once the room has quieted, an event he does not wait for but rather causes with a single, gently raised hand. “You are very kind to welcome me with such enthusiasm and extravagance, Your Highness, but let us not lose sight of honesty in favor of overzealous pleasantries.” His eyes are sharp, and Junhui watches them stare down the table until they suddenly flicker onto him.

Immediately, Junhui drops his gaze to his lap. Then, when a hand comes to rest on his shoulder, he closes his eyes, shutting out the room entirely. The sensation of fingers wriggling, squeezing against him makes Junhui want to crawl out of his skin as the king says, “You are right. Let’s talk business then, shall we?”

“Let’s,” Jisoo starts. “We know you would like passage through the Rush Fjord, but my queen is not foolish enough to think that is all you seek. After all, you are known for your ambition, are you not, Fox Tamer?” His tone shifts on the title, like he wants to spit the words out but restrains himself at the last second. It renews Junhui’s curiosity, and his bravery, encouraging him to raise his eyes again.

This time, when Junhui sets his sights on the end of the table, he slips past Jisoo and finds himself staring at the servant positioned behind his chair. The servant is staring back at him, but this time Junhui holds the gaze - he is not so terribly far beneath the servant, has no real reason to evade him, so Junhui takes him in. He’s tall and wispy, with dark hair that spills partially down his neck like ink. It’s not nearly as long as Junhui’s, but he supposes that makes sense; servants are not maintained the same way prizes are.

“I wouldn’t still possess all that I do if I were not,” the king says, his own voice edging towards hostile. “Ambition is necessary if one wishes to keep what is theirs. Action is rewarded; anything is yours if you can only take and hold onto it.”

The servant slides his attention down onto Jisoo, easily directing Junhui to do the same, as Jisoo says, “I believe all things return to where they belong, eventually.” He smiles, but it is not kind. It is a derisive expression as he continues, “I don’t care how well behaved an animal is indoors, if it was taken by force, then once it is restored to the wild, it will only answer to itself. That is nature’s design, and thus the way it should be.”

Jisoo’s eyes find Junhui once more, and something cold yet burning in them keeps Junhui from breaking the contact again. He can’t bring himself to shrink away even as the king asks, his voice leaking venom, “Just what are you trying to say?”

“That you’re a tyrant, and a fool.” Jisoo pushes his chair back, then, standing so that he can tower over the table and scowl as he says, “You have proven to be undeserving of Her Majesty’s trust. Do not think we have forgotten Vahnith. Allies mean nothing to you, and my queen will not have you within her borders so long as you place profit over loyalty. I thank you for opening your doors to me, Your Highness, but I will not overstay my welcome. I will return to Lidreth today.” He levels one last, unimpressed look across the room before he turns and starts to walk away.

“Is that your decision?” The king releases his hold on Junhui, his chair screeching horribly against the stone floor as he stands, no doubt to mirror the posture Jisoo held before he turned. When he receives no answer, Jisoo still striding towards the door, he yells, “Then you invite war unto your land!”

Jisoo halts, the servant falling still at his side. He peers over his shoulder, angles himself to halfway face the king again, and says, “Then I will enjoy seeing your head on a pike.”

**Author's Note:**

> Art exists to be witnessed.
> 
> If you’re so inclined after reading my fic, comments are always appreciated, especially if you have thoughts, feelings, or questions about the story. Regardless of whether it’s long or short, comments let me know that my work was engaged with, which, as a writer, is all I hope for those reading my fic to do.


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